Time is of the Essence
by Junsui
Summary: What happens while Ron is dealing with the brains on his own at the Department of Mysteries? A time travel tale to Tom Riddle's and Minerva McGonagall's school days... I know time travel seems overdone, but it's usually Hermione or Harry... never Ron.
1. Chapter One

**DISCLAIMER: Sadly, I don't own the rights to Harry Potter. If I did, I wouldn't be so poor. Harry Potter is the result of the genius of J.K. Rowling. No relation except for perhaps my first name is the same as her fake middle name. Seriously, that's it. This disclaimer covers the entire story: every word, every line...every chapter. sighs**

**Chapter One**

Ron struggled with the brains attempting to strangle him. The giddiness that had filled him but moments before left him with amazing speed as he became aware of his predicament. Neville had abandoned him to go help Harry keep the prophecy from falling into the Death Eaters', and shortly thereafter into Voldemort's, hands. Ron could hear distant shouting and wished he could help, but he had problems of his own to deal with.

As he struggled, he wasn't really aware of where he was going as he stumbled through a couple of doorways and a couple of rooms. He wasn't able to discern if they were ones he had been in before or not. He yelped as he crashed into a shelf and heard the sound of breaking glass. Shards of glass and . . ._ is that sand?_ fell and coated him as he fell into blackness . . .

Ron stirred. His head currently felt as though it were stuck in a dense fog. His tongue felt thick as well, and his eyes struggled to focus. The world seemed strangely bright for how far underground the Department of Mysteries was. His eyes finally settled on a girl with long black hair hovering over him.

"Are you alright?" she asked breathlessly with a Scottish accent.

Ron stared for a moment and then struggled to get out the words, "Who are you?"

He noticed that he certainly wasn't in the Department of Mysteries anymore. Actually, it looked as though he were back at Hogwarts. But if someone had brought him back to Hogwarts, why had they left him lying on the ground in the hall instead of taking him to Madam Pomfrey?

"That hardly seems important when you're bleeding!" the girl said bitingly. "Let me help you to the hospital wing."

She helped him to his feet. He felt incredibly weak and dizzy as the girl threw his arm around her neck and helped him down the hall. He was too drained to speak, but when they arrived at the Hospital Wing, it was not the familiar Madam Pomfrey who rushed to aid him.

"Who are you?" Ron asked, more confused than ever.

"This is Madam Pillory; she's in charge of the hospital wing here at Hogwarts. That's where you are," the girl explained conversationally.

"I know where I am!" Ron said bewildered, "But where is Madam Pomfrey?"

The nurse and the girl exchanged looks. "The only Pomfrey I know isn't a Healer," the girl replied cautiously. "Poppy is only a fourth year."

Ron stared in amazement. The Madam Pomfrey he knew had a first name of Poppy, but she certainly was a lot older than that! "And who are you?" Ron asked again. He still didn't recognize the dark-haired girl.

"My name is Minerva, Minerva McGonagall."

"McGonagall?!" Ron squeaked out. And before either of them could ask what his name was, Ron fainted away from shock and blood loss.

**A/N: I couldn't find Poppy's exact birthday anywhere, so I decided to place her at Hogwarts at the same time as Minerva McGonagall, Tom Riddle, etc. I'm going to try to keep to the known timeline as much as possible, but I may adjust slightly for the story...hopefully no one will have cows about that.**


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

"I don't recognize him, Polly; do you?" asked a voice that seemed familiar as Ron began to stir. He slowly opened his eyes, fully expecting to find that things were back to normal, he'd only be dreaming, and Harry had succeeded again. His eyes focused upon a man with long auburn hair and beard. Yet Ron felt as though he knew this man, and so he studied him carefully as the nurse and he continued talking. Finally it hit him. "Professor Dumbledore?" Ron croaked.

Dumbledore slowly turned in surprise to the boy lying in the bed. "You know me?"

Ron nodded tiredly, unable to think of anything to say to explain the overwhelming thoughts rushing through his mind.

Dumbledore exchanged glances with the nurse, and then Dumbledore said quietly to her, "Polly, perhaps you ought to let me speak to the boy in private." The nurse nodded and exited the hospital wing, quietly but firmly shutting the door behind her.

"Now," said Professor Dumbledore kindly as he settled himself into a chair by the bed. "Perhaps you should start by telling me your name. And then you can tell me how you know me, and we'll get this all straightened out."

"Er, my name is Ron . . . Ronald Weasley." Dumbledore appeared a bit surprised at the familiarity of the name 'Weasley' as he studied the boy before him. Before he lost his courage, Ron blurted out, "Professor, what year is it?"

Dumbledore was surprised at the odd question but responded with "1943."

Ron felt like he may faint again as he mumbled to himself, "I've gone back in time."

"What was that?" Dumbledore said, leaning a little closer and peering at the boy in concern.

"Professor, I . . . I think I've gone back in time somehow," Ron said, swallowing hard. When Dumbledore looked doubtfully at him, Ron said quickly, "It's the only explanation! Where I come from, I know people that I've met here, but they're totally different."

"Oh?" Dumbledore prompted.

Ron hesitated. Hermione had lectured him enough on the rules of time travel that he knew he was probably already breaking several just by being this far in the past. What would be okay to tell Dumbledore without totally altering the future? "Well . . . in my time . . . I know Poppy Pomfrey and Minerva McGonagall . . . and you. But . . . you're all a LOT older."

Dumbledore studied him thoughtfully for a moment before saying, "I can see that you're familiar with the rules of time travel."

Ron nodded warily.

"Well, it seems we may have a problem then: how to get you back to the proper time. You see, most wizards only travel back for short amounts of time because there really isn't a way to travel forward in time."

"I thought that was the case," Ron said resignedly. "I don't even think this is supposed to be possible," he swallowed again before croaking, "in my time."

"I'll contact the proper people, and we'll start researching right away, but for now . . . I'm afraid you are stuck here, Mr. Weasley."

Ron sat numbly in the hospital bed after Dumbledore had left, staring off into space. They had decided, or rather Dumbledore had decided, that Ron would be a transfer student, although, as Dumbledore had put it, "That's a most uncommon and rare occurrence, but circumstances being what they are . . ." Ron knew it to be the case because he'd certainly never seen a transfer student in all of his years at Hogwarts. He wondered dully what sort of things had to happen to transfer schools.

Was he ever going to see his friends again? Harry, who had stuck by him from day one; who would have ever thought that Harry Potter would choose him for his best friend? Hermione, loyal to a fault despite her exasperation with his study habits and their fights. He felt that frightening inkling again that there was something more, he wasn't sure what exactly, to his feelings for Hermione, but he pushed it aside as always.

His family . . . would he ever see them again? He knew his parents loved him despite how he sometimes felt overshadowed by his siblings. Ginny, though he'd never say it to her, she really was a trooper to have for a sister. Fred, George, great jokes were always to be had with them, even if they were sometimes at Ron's expense. Bill, Charlie . . . he didn't see them as often anymore, but . . . and then Percy . . . Ron didn't want to think about him right now and what his view of this situation would be.

Slowly Ron became aware that another person had entered the room and was standing quietly next to his bed. He focused his eyes on the dark-haired girl from before. The younger version of Minerva McGonagall. "Ronald Weasley?" she questioned softly.

Vaguely Ron remembered that he hadn't told her his name before. "Yes?" he responded, attempting to come out of his haze.

"Dumbledore said that I'm to show you the way to the Gryffindor Common Room." Her voice was nothing but kind, but Ron could see curiosity shining in her eyes. He wasn't sure exactly what Dumbledore had told her about the situation, so he remained silent. "He also had me bring you these." she said, handing him some robes after he had freed himself from the bedsheets and climbed out. He could see that they were the school robes that Hogwarts was currently using.

"Thanks," he said numbly. As Minerva continued to stand there staring at him, he said flustered, "Er-"

Minerva flushed and with an exclamation of "Oh!" went to wait outside the curtained cubicle while he changed into the uniform.

Once he had finished changing, he walked outside to join her. She silently turned and began 'leading' the way. After a little while she awkwardly began, "I introduced myself earlier, but I'm not sure how much you remember." After all, the boy had been spouting nonsense . . . probably from blood loss. "I'm Minerva McGonagall; I'm the Head Girl here at Hogwarts. I'm in Gryffindor, just like you're going to be."

So, Ron mused, that made her currently a seventh year. Dumbledore had decided to tell the Headmaster that Ron belonged in sixth year, since he had, for all intents and purposes, finished his fifth year at Hogwarts before going to the Department of Mysteries. To explain his odd circumstances, Dumbledore had decided to use the wizarding war that was taking place with . . . Ron suddenly realized he had forgotten to ask who was the dark wizard in this war. He scrambled his brain, wishing for once that he had been a little more interested in history, especially now that he had to act like a refugee from a war that he couldn't really remember the details of. He hoped no one asked him any questions until he'd had a chance to find Dumbledore and get some information.

The boy was unusually quiet, Minerva thought. He looked like the more talkative type, but she supposed the experiences that had brought him here in that condition would make anyone reclusive.

"Hey, McGonagall," a male voice called down the corridor.

As Minerva and Ron turned, Minerva forced an icy smile and spoke through gritted teeth, "Riddle."


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

Ron stared with shock and some interest at the boy. Minerva - he couldn't call her Professor anymore, although it still felt weird - had called him Riddle. Did she mean TOM Riddle? As in the person who eventually became V- V- You-Know-Who?

The boy noticed Ron's surprise and pursed his lips, surveying him. He didn't recognize the boy, and he usually made it a point to remember people.

"Ron, this is Tom Riddle. He's a sixth year prefect in Slytherin," Minerva said. Her tone was rather bland, but her expression wasn't what could be termed friendly. She didn't notice Ron's reaction when his suspicions were confirmed, a slight widening of his eyes and a slight dropping of his jaw before he caught himself. "Riddle, this is Ronald Weasley. He's a transfer student in Gryffindor."

Weasley. That name sounded familiar. Of course . . . that was one of the pure-blood families. But, Tom was certain that they currently were in the generational cycle where no children were at school. A coincidence? But he even had the famous red hair that came from the Weasley line . . .

"A transfer student?" Tom questioned, keeping his tone lightly curious. "That's unusual." The Weasley family ALWAYS came to Hogwarts.

Ron stiffened. "So I've been told," he said, keeping his tone neutral. Ron wasn't good at hiding his emotions, but here that could quickly become dangerous. Tom was in his sixth year, which meant that only the year before he had opened the Chamber of Secrets, and the student who would later become known as Moaning Myrtle had been killed.

"McGonagall, I was hoping to speak to you about something," Tom said, returning his attention to the Head Girl. Minerva rolled her eyes and stepped aside to speak with Tom. Ron could've easily taken himself to the Gryffindor Common Room, but he was supposed to be completely unfamiliar with Hogwarts, so he only sat and watched while Tom and Minerva spoke in voices too low for Ron to hear anything distinct.

Tom had the self-assurance and facial features of someone with a noble heritage. Ron figured that many girls probably found his black hair and dark blue eyes very handsome. So far Tom hadn't behaved in a way that would give even a hint of his recent behavior. In fact, Ron knew that most of the school viewed him as a hero. Nothing seemed to give a clue of what would eventually be Tom's future, but that didn't come as a surprise.

Minerva shook her head emphatically and quickly returned to Ron's side before Tom could attempt to continue the conversation. Tom looked a little irked but, with a swish of his robes, headed back the direction he had come.

"What was that about?" Ron asked casually as they continued to head for the Common Room.

"Oh, he just wanted to ask me to go out with him," Minerva said briskly.

Ron's jaw dropped. Tom Riddle? Asking a girl out?

"I said no, as usual," Minerva continued. Considering how observant Minerva eventually became, she once again failed to see Ron's reaction to her words. Tom had not only asked a girl out, but he'd asked the same girl more than once!

"Why?" Ron asked curiously. He couldn't see any reason why in this time Tom would be turned down.

"I-" Minerva began as they came up to the Gryffindor portrait hole. "I just don't want to," she said quickly before changing the subject, "This is the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room. You just say the password, and it will open. Don't tell anyone from the other houses our password. The current password is fortis." As she said the password, the portrait swung open, and she gestured for Ron to climb inside.

"Riddle seems like he would be someone that a girl would find very attractive," Ron refused to let the subject drop as Minerva climbed through the portrait hole. "So why don't you want to go out with him?"

Minerva stared at him, "I'm not sure why you are so interested in this, but . . . Riddle's a Slytherin."

"So?" Ron asked bluntly, ignoring the fact that in his day and age it was the same situation. He didn't know about 1943, but by the time Ron got to school a Slytherin asking a Gryffindor out at all would've been phenomenal. "Are you telling me that no one ever dates a person from a different house?"

"Well, no . . ." Minerva began, but Ron cut her off with, "Well, maybe you should give him a chance! You don't know what he's really like if that's your only reason." And then he stomped off.

Minerva stared at Ron with her mouth open as he marched up the stairs to the boys dormitory before it finally occurred to her to wonder how he knew which side was the boys.


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

Ron stalked through the library, searching the vast shelves of books. For the first time in his school career, with the exception of when Hermione was mad at him (and even then he had Harry), he was having to do _**all**_ of his research by himself. Not only for his homework but also to try to work out his own problems. The library had been entirely rearranged by the vociferous Madam Pince in Ron's time, so the exercise was proving to be truly frustrating. On the bright side, this meant he didn't appear to be too familiar with Hogwarts. If that could be called a bright side . . .

At least he hadn't bothered taking Potions. He knew there was no way he had gotten the required O grade from Snape in his own time, and he was stubbornly clinging to the idea that sooner or later he would get back there . . . somehow. Despite Ron's incredible dislike for the greasy Potions professor, he would have been glad to see even him at the moment if it meant that he would be back with Harry, Hermione, and his family. A creepy thought, Snape hadn't even been born yet in the time Ron was currently in (of course, neither had his parents or the parents of his friends, but still . . . it was just creepier because it was Snape).

Ron still hadn't had a chance to speak to Professor Dumbledore again, although he had met with Headmaster Dippet. The cordial and absent-minded way the Headmaster had spoken to him had showed to Ron he had no clue what was truly going on. Dumbledore must not have confided the truth to the Headmaster. He suspected Dumbledore's capabilities were being directed in other areas at the time though, because Ron _**had**_ remembered who the dark wizard of the time was: Grindelwald.

Ron had almost slapped himself when he'd remembered; Grindelwald was mentioned on Dumbledore's Chocolate Frog card. That was the SECOND time a Chocolate Frog card had proved to be extremely useful! Ron was beginning to suspect that Chocolate Frog cards were a potentially powerful study tool. He almost wished he'd thought about that before taking his O.W.L.s. He wondered if he could somehow use this newfound thought to his advantage . . .

"Ronald, could I possibly help you somehow?"

At the sound of his full first name, Ron started and whirled around to see Minerva McGonagall staring at him with an oddly familiar quizzical expression on her face. "WHY do you always call me that?" he said in exasperation to cover up his surprise, when he realized: she was wearing tortoiseshell glasses.

When Minerva noticed him staring at her glasses, she blushed furiously and whipped them off. "I only wear them when I'm reading," she muttered. Then she straightened up proudly and said in a defiant reminding tone, "And I call you Ronald because that is your name, is it not?" Again she got that oddly familiar quizzical expression on her face.

Ron had been avoiding Minerva ever since that odd outburst he'd had the night he arrived, but with her being Head Girl, it hadn't been all that hard. He kept asking himself why he had been defensive of a Slytherin, and not just ANY Slytherin but the boy You-Know-Who! It's not like he could possibly feel sympathy for HIM getting rejected by a girl, right? No matter how much that sucked . . . it was really hard to ask them out in the first place.

But Minerva was the only familiar (it was heart-stopping at times to see the familiar expressions on a face decades younger) that Ron had besides Professor Dumbledore. Pulling himself from his reverie and back to the conversation at hand, Ron felt an odd pang of homesickness for Hermione, who always called him Ronald when she was annoyed.

"Just call me Ron," Ron said softly in an oddly strained voice.

Minerva stared at him before her proud exterior softened a little. "Well, Ron, is there something I can do to help you? It's obvious you're not used to the library yet." Just to not appear too soft she added, "Watching you skulk around in frustration is distracting."

"I don't even know where to start," Ron said, overwhelmed.

"I'm sure your education has been fractured, to say the least."

And although Minerva meant the war of her time, Ron nodded glumly. Although most of his teachers were spectacular, he'd had some pretty out there Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers. He felt even more glum when he thought of his job prospects now that his hopes of becoming an Auror were crushed.

"Well, then let me help you," Minerva offered.

"Don't you have your own work to do?" But Ron could hear the hope in his voice that said he really needed help.

Minerva rolled her eyes and snatched one of the assignments from Ron's hand and scanned it. "This is Transfiguration homework! Professor Dumbledore told me that I could have passed the Transfiguration N.E.W.T. at the beginning of the year, if not before."

Ron was oddly reminded of Hermione at two different moments meshed together. He could almost hear her echo of, "Flitwick told me in secret I got one hundred and twelve percent on the exam. They're not throwing me out after that." But at the same time, the look on Minerva's face reminded Ron eerily of the time when Hermione had a crush on Gilderoy Lockheart.

In fact, Minerva's behaviors were so reminiscent of Hermione's that it was rapidly becoming obvious to Ron why McGonagall was one of Hermione's favorite professors; they were very similar in the way they did things. Ron felt a bit of a lump in his throat as he watched the dark-haired Minerva pull over tome after tome and pore over the books. And Minerva noticed that the way the new boy was watching her was definitely a little odd. It looked almost tender. But neither of them saw the boy in the shadows watching them with a hooded expression.

**A/N: A lot of people were concerned about why Ron was defending Tom, so I hope I satisfactorily explained that I don't really think Ron himself is even sure why. He is very emotion-driven but not always very perceptive of what those emotions are.**


	5. Chapter Five

**A/N: I apologize profusely. I'm not sure how many of you will even still be reading this story. I even have had this chapter written for MONTHS, but . . . life happened. While I was attempting to refresh my own memory about the story, I made some changes to the previous chapters, but nothing really major.**

**Chapter Five**

Ron sat, staring at the pages of the book in front of him but not really absorbing them. He still hadn't managed to talk to Dumbledore, but he wasn't sure what he would say when and if he did. He couldn't really tell the professor certain things without possibly altering the future, which Hermione had told him absolutely couldn't happen. He didn't want to do something that could possibly cause him or his friends to cease to exist. That would be awful. So he tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, and he hoped he hadn't caused irreparable damage already.

The Restricted Section was much smaller in this era, and books that Ron was SURE were restricted in his time weren't in this one. He figured it probably had something to do with Tom Riddle becoming Voldemort and Dumbledore knowing about it. So he was taking this opportunity to attempt to read some of the restricted books, but honestly, he was sure that he wasn't going to remember any of this important information to take back to Harry and Hermione. Hermione was the one with the near photographic memory, not Ron.

"Interested in the Dark Arts?" a voice inquired.

Ron jumped. He turned around to see Tom Riddle smiling at him in what Ron would have sworn was a FRIENDLY fashion? He glanced down at the book and said firmly, "No. I am interested in DEFENSE Against the Dark Arts though." He returned to reading the book, jotting down an occasional note on the parchment in front of him.

Ron was surprised to hear the sound of a chair sliding out and Tom sitting down across from him. He looked up in time to see Tom shrug. "There's a fine line between the Dark Arts themselves and defense against them."

"Yes," Ron said thoughtfully. "I suppose that's true." Once again he focused on the book. He felt uncomfortable in the silence but didn't really know what to say to the future You-Know-Who.

"Where is your family?" Tom suddenly said. The initiation of such a personal topic of conversation caused Ron to look up in surprise.

"They . . ." he thought of his parents, his five brothers, and his sister. "They are gone," he finally said sadly. That was true in one context. A silence stretched between Ron and Tom before Tom said in what seemed to be a sincere tone, "I'm sorry."

Ron looked at him skeptically. Tom saw his skeptical gaze and offered, "I never knew my parents."

Ron's eyebrows shot up. Tom hadn't known his parents? Neither had Harry . . . but Tom had been the one to cause that to be the case. "I'm sorry to hear that as well," Ron said.

Tom wasn't sure why he had shared that information, and he could tell the other boy was still uncomfortable. Normally people were easily charmed by Tom. Dumbledore wasn't, and Minerva wasn't, and this boy seemed to not entirely trust him either. Was that what was so special about him that made Minerva so sociable with him? There were many other Gryffindor boys . . .

Taking a deep breath, Tom made another stab at attempting conversation. "Dumbledore is gone a lot lately, isn't he?"

Ron looked up from the book once more. Finally he said, "Yes, he is . . ."

"He's probably off with his anti-Dark group," Tom said, unable to keep a slight note of derision from entering his voice.

Ron's jaw dropped in amazement. Had the origin of the Order of the Phoenix been during Grindelwald's time and not You-Know-Who's first rise? "Anti-Dark group?" he queried in a mystified tone.

"Yes." Tom surveyed the boy's reaction. "I think McGonagall is hoping the war won't be over by the time she graduates so she can follow him into battle," he joked. In reality this was a bitter subject for Tom . . . it was probably because Minerva was one of those few things he couldn't seem to get easily that he was so fascinated by her.

Ron laughed, picturing it in his head, before stopping in confusion. He stared at Tom Riddle. Tom looked so much like Harry . . . for a moment Ron had forgotten who he was sitting with.

For all of the similarities in Tom's and Harry's pasts, they were complete opposites. Across from him sat the boy who would become the man that murdered Ron's uncles, caused his mother to live in fear, attempted to murder his best friend in cold blood as a baby for purely selfish reasons after murdering his best friend's parents, and attempted to bring himself back to life by sucking away Ron's beloved baby sister's lifeforce. And he had just LAUGHED with him.

Ron quickly forced a smile back on his face and pretended to return to his book, hoping Tom wouldn't want to talk anymore.

Tom noticed the tension come back into Ron's demeanor and wondered what secrets Ronald Weasley held.

**A/N: Now that it's summer, my major goals are to finish the fanfiction stories I currently have started. Preferably before the seventh book comes out!**


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

He couldn't put it off any longer. Professor Dumbledore was the only one who knew even partially about Ron's true situation, and the tension was driving Ron mad.

"Er, Professor Dumbledore, sir?" he spoke to the back of the man in question following Transfiguration class, while the other students filed out.

Professor Dumbledore turned and focused his kind blue eyes on Ron. "Yes, Mr. Weasley?"

"I know you're very busy at the moment…" And Ron really meant that, since he knew about Dumbledore's still future defeat of Grindelwald. "But I really need to talk to you."

Dumbledore was silent for a moment, surveying Ron, before saying, "Of course. 8 o'clock tonight in my office?"

Ron simply nodded. Without another word, Professor Dumbledore turned back to what he was doing.

Ron sighed a little as he trekked down the hall. With a meeting secured, now he had to figure out how to discuss what he needed to talk about without causing any problems.

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"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore asked, holding a candy tray out to Ron.

Ron shook his head. Normally he wasn't one to turn down sweets, but at the moment he was feeling rather ill.

Dumbledore settled back into his chair and said, "Now, Mr. Weasley, what would you like to discuss? If you're wondering if we've made any progress regarding getting you back to your own time, I'm afraid we haven't."

"Oh." Ron just sat there for a moment before saying, "Well, actually, sir, that isn't it."

"It's not?"

"No. I figured that when there was any progress, you would let me know. This is about something else."

Ron hesitated before beginning cautiously, "Sir, I know I can't give you any particular details, but I'm not sure how to handle this situation. There's a certain person I've met here that I know in the future."

"I thought you said you knew more than one person?"

"Yes, but this one is different. In the future, he's bad."

"Bad?"

"Well, more like completely evil," Ron admitted, "although he's already done bad things in this time."

Dumbledore looked concerned and rather as though he might suspect he knew who Ron was talking about, but before he could speak Ron hurriedly continued, "I KNOW I can't tell you anything that might change the future, but I'm worried about if just my presence here is going to affect the future."

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Mr. Weasley."

"I don't know how to behave around this person. If I shun him, then do I become one of the reasons he continues down the path of evil? But if I try to befriend him, then…" Ron fell silent, not sure what to say.

Dumbledore was also silent for a moment before saying, "Considering the unusual circumstances, Mr. Weasley, I don't know what to tell you to do. Perhaps the best thing to do for now is simply follow your instincts…"

Ron felt a sense of despair. Harry was the one with good instincts, not him. But he didn't know what else he could say to Professor Dumbledore, so he simply nodded and slowly left the office.

**A/N: Sorry, it's another short one. I just can't seem to write long chapters for this story.**


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

"Puckle, please cease that infernal racket," Minerva commanded imperiously from her position in a chair by the fire.

Ever since Minerva had helped Ron with his homework, she seemed to be spending a lot more time in the Gryffindor Common Room. Although this occurrence was decidedly against many of the other Gryffindors' tastes, Ron felt as though he and Minerva had slipped into that easy friendship that he and Hermione had possessed before... but he couldn't dwell on that now.

"If you don't like it, McGonagall, then why don't you go to your Head room?" Puckle replied irritably.

"I'm sure I'm not the only one attempting to study here."

"No, but you're the only one working on becoming the worst know-it-all on the face of the planet. It's no wonder you've never had a boyfriend and hardly any friends. You're just a bossy cow. No one put up with you until Weasley came along, and I bet he only does it so you'll help him with his homework."

At the beginning of this tirade, Minerva had swelled with rage, but by the end she seemed rather depleted. Obviously on the verge of tears, she glanced suspiciously at Ron before exiting the Common Room at a jog.

"Puckle, you're a right git," Ron broke out angrily.

"I only said what everyone else thinks," Puckle said defiantly.

"No, you didn't." He could've gone on a tirade here, but Ron determinedly exited the Common Room to find Minerva.

He'd never been much good at comforting Hermione, usually leaving such things to Harry. But there was no Harry here now, and this wasn't Hermione, whom he had oftimes been the one who caused her tears in the first place, he recalled with discomfort and regret. But now was his time to prove that he did have an emotional range bigger than a teaspoon.

He checked the classrooms as he moved down the hallways. But when he finally heard the sound of sniffling, it seemed to be coming from a rarely used corridor.

"Minerva?" he called softly. He saw the shadowy figure stiffen and turn slowly in his direction.

"Ron?" he heard her voice rasp incredulously.

"Yes." He silently walked over and sat down next to her, waiting for her to speak first.

For awhile they just sat there, and then she spoke in a haughty tone meant to disguise the fact she'd been crying, "What are you doing here? I thought I'd already helped you with all of your homework today."

Patiently Ron said, "You shouldn't listen to that arse."

Silence reigned for a few moments before Minerva timidly (he never would've imagined timid from her) said, "So you don't just put up with me so I'll help you with your homework?"

"Most definitely not," Ron said firmly.

He couldn't see her very well in the shadowy corridor, but he was pretty sure her eyes had teared up again before she did that weird lunge-hug that Hermione had often done to Harry. Awkwardly Ron patted her on the back.

"So you don't think I'm a know-it-all and a bossy cow?" her muffled voice came.

"Well, know-it-all and bossy maybe, but those aren't really bad things anyway. But definitely not a cow." Ron heard increased snuffles from his chest and resigned himself to a soggy shirt.

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"Weasley, you and McGonagall seem to be rather close friends."

Ron started, his concentration broken, although the voice was rapidly becoming familiar. He looked up to see the familiar haughty profile of Tom Riddle. "I suppose so," he replied noncomittally.

"I saw you hugging her in the corridor the other day."

Ron looked up with surprise at the tone of Tom's voice. Puzzled he said, "Well, she had was upset because some of the other Gryffindors insulted her."

"I wouldn't have thought she was the type to let the remarks of fools get to her."

"Yes, well, she is a girl," Ron pointed out in an absent-minded tone, attempting to correct the error he'd made on his diagram when Tom had startled him.

Tom glared suspiciously at Ron before grudgingly conceding, "I suppose you have a point."

"You like Minerva, don't you?" Ron said, focusing suddenly on Tom.

"What makes you say that?" Tom sneered through his surprise.

"Well, the day when I arrived... I don't think she meant to tell me, but you had pulled her to the side in the hall." Hesitating momentarily Ron decided to just go for it. "I'm not sure why she said no," he said in a nonchalant tone as he pretended to return his attention to his work.

Now even Tom wasn't able to contain his surprise, "Really?"

"Yes, I even told her so and asked her why. You obviously value her intelligence like few others do."

"It's one of the reasons I admire her so," Tom admitted, not sure why he was actually confessing this weakness to Ronald Weasley, one of those few people he didn't have pegged. "So few women are intelligent, or at least act so."

Ron was silent.

Deciding to venture on his observation since Ron had ventured on his, Tom noted, "At times you get an odd look on your face. That's why I thought you liked Minerva as well, but now I think it's for someone else."

Ron looked up in surprise before looking away. "In- In my old school, one of my oldest and closest friends was a girl. She and Minerva are very similar."

"You were more than friends with her though," Tom said, watching Ron intently.

Ron shook his slowly before saying in a low voice, "No. I never told her." Ron seemed to have found something that he and Tom Riddle, the man who would become Lord Voldemort, had in common...

**A/N: The result of a sudden inspiration; I hope you like it since it's almost twice as long as the last chapter. I decided to end it on this note rather than turning it to humor, but let me know what you think!**


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